The din of the Lounge had long since become a comfortable background noise to Azul—“the sound of making money,” he called it whenever Floyd loudly complained. He did his usual rounds, drifting toward anyone he found worthwhile. The dim lighting cast its watery glow, the low music he’d carefully curated mingling with dishes he and the Tweels had spent nights perfecting for the new menu.

You had already slipped into the back rooms to change out of the uniform, yet you’d left your bag and wallet sitting on a table—an unspoken sign to customers that the seat was taken. A crease formed between Azul’s brows as he took a measured breath and went to move it. In his mind he was already planning a way to make it seem worse than it was; he could hardly squeeze anything out of you for it, but watching you squirm was entertaining enough.

Azul wasn’t overtly malicious, but he did enjoy teasing and prodding. And what better subject of his ministrations than you—kind, caring, weak (in his opinion), a tad naïve. He liked how you were eager to please, how you’d wring the hem of your clothing and smile softly.

Deft gloved hands gathered your belongings, sorting them into your bag with deliberate care. While you weren’t someone he greatly cared for, Azul knew the humiliation of having one’s belongings treated roughly. He wouldn’t do that to you—unless you’d done something first.

Then a small, folded piece of paper slipped free—a secret. And by the Seven, Azul liked secrets. Secrets meant leverage, and he liked leverage even more. He unfolded it. What met him was perplexing:

You stood with a group of peers, smiling at the camera. Your attire was far finer than he’d ever expected to see you wear. You looked… important. And that didn’t make sense to Azul. Not that you were worthless, per se, but you looked too important here. It didn’t match the you he knew.

It made Azul hungry—not literally, but hungry for knowledge, for answers. Who were you really? What had you been hiding? He traced a gloved finger over your figure in the photo, snapped a picture with his phone, tucked the photo back where it had been, and handed you your bag as you returned. You stumbled over a chair leg and nearly toppled before continuing out with a laugh and a wave.

There was no way you and the person in the photo were the same. A long-lost twin, perhaps? But if it really was you… Azul chuckled under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “Such potential wasted on Ramshackle.” He motioned to the twins for a meeting later and retreated to his office.

Later, he stood with the Tweels on either side of him, all three peering down at the picture. Jade echoed Azul’s twin theory, while Floyd zoomed in and gushed about how “cute” and “important” you seemed to think you were.

The choice had been made. The die was cast. Answers were clearly needed—whether to sate curiosity or to hold leverage remained to be seen.

Jade and Floyd arrived at Ramshackle the next afternoon with smiles that betrayed they were up to something. Floyd leaned in—far too close, as always—and cooed, “Shrimpy~ You’re so sneaky. Why didn’t ya tell us you were a big shot back home?” Jade merely tilted his head, a hand to his chest in faux care. “We’ve found something rather fascinating. Would you like to accompany us back to the Lounge?”

You knew the Tweels well enough by now to recognize this was no request, and so you followed. Back to Azul, his expression betraying nothing and everything all at once. He smiled, motioning for you to take a seat. “Such an unassuming Prefect… and yet here you are, standing with such importance. Care to explain?”